Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Knights and Barbarians

A discussion started up at work today about toes.  Jenn was telling the rest of us that, allegedly, you can tell your ancient regional origin by what your toes look like.  Now, I have always heard the old wives' tale that if your second toe was longer than your big toe, it meant that you were destined to be the "head of the household."  My Memaw always said this.  But I have never heard that you could tell anything about your ancestry from your feet.  Of course, we Googled it, and sure enough, found this chart:

Which naturally led to everyone trying to determine what they were.  Apparently, I am some kind of Greco-Roman mutation.  My left foot looks like #2, while my right foot looks like #3 with the longer 2nd toe.  I'll post a picture later when I've had a chance to paint my toe nails.  They are in a sad state right now.  Well, the discussion breaks up and we all go back to our respective offices.

Later in the day, several folks from the foot-discussion were in my office and one of the guys bursts out with:
"You know that foot thing reminds me about the "Knights and Barbarians" back in the Army."
Looking at our non-plussed expressions he said, "You know...after you go to the bathroom...whether you fold it or crumple it determines if you're a Knight or a Barbarian."

Time out...currently, I am on drugs.  I took a fall yesterday afternoon, ended up with four stitches (detailed story forthcoming), some bruises and a prescription for Loratab.  In my chemically hazed mind, I imagined my co-worker was describing how a person of the male persuasion, um, tucked himself back into his pants after peeing.  I know.

"What if you wrap it around your hand?" Another co-worker asks.
"Well, well," I think to myself, "that would be quite the trick" when I stop myself midthought and realize we're discussing toilet paper.
And apparently, you're a Knight if you fold your toilet paper and you're a Barbarian if you crumple it (which, come to think of it, men probably try to AVOID crumpling their junk no matter what their social status is).  And my co-worker continued on his story about how his company ended up dressing up as Barbarians or Knights and had a grand battle because they are BOYS.  Meanwhile my mind is still reeling with the incredible leap in logic my brain had.  What is wrong with me that I immediately WENT THERE? Hell if I know.

Turns out, I am a Greco-Roman Knight.  Huzzah!

Updated with my Greco-Roman feets. Also, I still have Prometheus. I still lurve him.

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